Cousin, best friend, birthday girl
by ausumist
Summary: If someone gave you the 'I'm not afraid to beat the crap out of a girl, and if you don't answer me truthfully then I will beat the crap out of you, leaving my ring as indentions on your face' look, wouldn't you answer?
1. Chapter 1

Happy birthday to **Thealmightydee9009**, I have released this at exactly 2:10 and the one-shot has exactly 2,100 word. I hope my beta is pleased.

Disclaimer: **I do not own KHR**

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><p>I walked down the hallways of Nami-middle with Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto, and Gokudera. I find it beyond strange that people who are so different from each other are hanging out together so casually. Though I think, that to them I'm now kind of included in their group, in other word I'm their friend. This is really weird for me because I do not consider myself to be their friend at all.<p>

It probably sounds mean, but I see all of them as acquaintances more than anything. I haven't told them this because it sounds rude coming out loud, so I let them think that I am their friend—even though I am obviously not. If I was their friend, then I would possibly put their lives and interests before their own, and that is definitely not true since I have been writing my name on Gokudera's math test for a while now. While I have his top score in math he has my failing grade.

The only friend I've had for a while now has been Alana, but isn't that how cousins are supposed to be?  
>No, thinking about it now I guess not; I could say 21 good things about Alana off the top of my head and naming six about anyone else in my family is more than a little hard. No offense to them, well kind of anyways.<p>

The boys are all gossiping together, but I'm not surprise for two reasons. First is because guys are the worst gossipers in the world. It isn't just theses guy either, everywhere I've seen guy's gossip profoundly. The second reason is because their topic was none other than Alana (Dee as they know her). She is not your everyday girl, so I can see how they are surprised by her and her actions. If I didn't know her then I would be gossiping with them right now.

"She took on Hibari so easily!" Tsuna exclaimed. His voice was dominated by panic, but I could hear underlined tone of awe. He was impressed and frightened at the same time.

"Hahah! Yeah, it was pretty cool." Yamamoto Takeshi commented with a fake easy going smile. My instinct told me that someday I would be the one who has to kill this guy, and I will probably have a good reason to. Either way I need to keep my eye on him.

"Hn!" Gokudera snorted his eyes looking angry as always. "How do you know her?" He demanded to know while looking straight at me. I saw no reason as to why I could not answer it. What's the harm of telling him that me and her are related, we have bigger secrets to hide.

"We're cousins." I answer truthfully. He didn't look satisfied with my answer in the least.

"Wow. You cousins? You guys don't look alike." Yamamoto said with bright smile. Did that jerk just insult me? What an asshole! That's it; I'm officially on team Gokudera for right hand man. Yamamoto can be the belly button lent for all I care.

"What is she like?" Gokudera interrogated me. I would have lied or told him to buzz off, but he was giving me an 'I'm not afraid to beat the crap out of a girl, and if you don't answer me truthfully then I will beat the crap out of you, leaving my ring as indentions on your face' look. I had been given this look many times before, but coming from Gokudera it seems just a bit more intimidating and I feel incline to answer him. Though when giving the question any real thought, it is much more difficult to answer than it should be.

Well they are guys, so it's probably best to tell them how she looks.

I guess it should tell them that she's short, but if I do that then I have to explain how she doesn't seem short at all. Whenever I'm talking to her I completely forget the fact that I am the one who should be looking down. She gives off the feeling as if she should be your equal in height, and the only time that you're conscious of her length is when you spot her in the distance.

Then I should tell them about the way she moves, how there is absolutely no awkwardness in her movements at all. It is not that she is graceful or elegant, but rather it appears as if there is not limitation in her movements like the wind.

After that though it's probably best to describe her face. That would be easy, she has a very charming face, not beautiful of exceedingly special but charming, definitely charming. And its charm is much more desirable than any beauty, because it will never fade.

Also I have to mention her crazy smile. She doesn't smile crazily, it is quite the opposite, she has a very nice smile, a pleasant one, it is her teeth that are crazy. Her teeth are so white they basically tell the orbit smile to fuck off. Yeah, they're that white. I swear sometimes when I see what perfect dental features she has, I want to tell Ryohei to try and knock a tooth out if they ever go sparing. Brightest smile ever, I swear on her grave.

But I don't want to tell them all of this. Because if I do tell them then I also have to mention how they don't have a chance in hell with her. And that would hurt their feelings, and I am way too nice to do that. Despite the whole test thing I have going on with Gokudera. It isn't personal, I swear…ish.

Okay, so then what if I tell them about her sense of humor?

I could tell them about how amazing it is and that I have never met nor heard of anyone 2/3 as funny as she is. I swear she says the most ridiculous shit and makes it come off badass. People (my mother) say that I hardly ever laugh and have no sense of humor (who is she to talk?), but when I'm around her there is not five minutes that go by where I am not tempted to laugh, and there is not ten minutes that go by where I don't. Sometimes, when she is on a roll, she can have me rolling on the ground crying because of how hard her jokes make me laugh.

It's not that she just tells funny jokes either, it is the way she says things. How she moves her hands, how she changes her tone, and uses her facial expression. If I had to share a dessert island with anyone it would her (or my dad) because at least that way I would go out laughing. Then again maybe not, on an island it is survival of the fittest and I would say between the two of us, Alana if the fittest. Who am I kidding; I would still choose her anyways.

However, now that I think it over I'm terrible at explaining things, and if I tried to explain to the boys about how she makes me laugh then none of them would get it, and I would be embarrassed because of it.

A simpler idea it to just tell them about some of the really awesome things she can do. Like how she is best (besides my dad) at go-cart racing, or how she sings so well that I often prefer the way she sings a song then the actual artist, or how she has the best grammar I know, or how she isn't afraid to do anything, or maybe how she is a really good swimmer. I could also mention that she is talented when it comes to utilizing technology, has abnormal ambition and determination (Medeka watch out), and can remember everyone's birthday. Yeah, she has way more talent the common bear. But they might not believe me when I tell them that, so I guess this idea is also out.

Perhaps I could tell then that she numbero dos person I respect in the world.

There is less than a handful of people I have and admiration for, but Alana is one of them. There are some many reasons for that but off the top of my head I can only think of twenty one. She is a powerful person. She can overcome anything. She is hardcore reasonable. She tries to do what is best in a hard situation. She doesn't burden others. She has her pride. She doesn't bend over backwards to please others. She doesn't meddle. She is a person I can fully trust. She has never been cruel to me. She refuses to be pitied. She doesn't depend on anyone. She has always had my confidence in everything she does. She has control over her life. She calls it how she sees it—bluntly. She knows her boundaries and doesn't overstep them. She has my father's respect. She never tries to make a situation worse. She never lets anything get her down long. She considers what others say. And she has tendency to awesome.

Maybe I should just make clear to them how much I appreciate her.  
>That might help them understand her.<p>

She does so much for me, that I would not dare start to name it all. She goes out of way for me all the time when she doesn't have to. I never clearly thank her for it or really tell her how much it all means to me— how much she means to me. Sometimes, when I'm talking to her, I whisper thank you softly but not loud enough for her to hear it. I have never had the courage to tell her 'Thank you' openly. That kind of thing is just way to embarrassing for me to say; it would be awkward and I wouldn't know how to do it, so I just say silent instead.

Since I can't say that to Alana, I am most certainly not going to say to these three boys who I don't even really consider friends yet. The boys are so troublesome at times, why should I tell them anything about her again?

Oh yeah, Gokudera's 'I'm not afraid to beat the crap out of a girl, and if you don't answer me truthfully then I will beat the crap out of you, leaving my ring as indentions on your face' look. It is so intimidating that I'm surprised I haven't shown the emotion of nervousness on my face. Does he not get that he asked me to do something beyond difficult? How am I to tell them about someone that amazing? I'd like to see them do it sometime.

"Well?" Gokudera demanded to know. After all of my intense thinking, I feel at a loss for words. The other two boys are also looking at me curiously, wondering about my beloved cousin Alana. Three pairs of different color eyes watching me so intently are uncomfortable. What the hell did they want, her life story?

"She's pretty cool I guess." I tell them. Gokudera gave me a look that told me he thought I was useless; Tsuna looked like I dropped a wait on his back, and Yamamoto just smiled as if he was nice guy. The baby just-

What the fuck.

"Ciaossu Mimi" he greeted. I was torn between my instinct to love anyone five years younger than me, and the fear of watching his creepy eyes. And also the confusion as to what 'Ciaossu' meant.

"Hi," I say.

"Tell me more about your cousin, Dee," He ordered in nice voice. I could still tell it was an order though, one by the world's greatest hitman. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. I think he wanted to know more than the fact that I love her **as my cousin and best friend.**


	2. Chapter 2

This is about a month late, Sorry. I know it's fucked up but I kinda forgot to write something for you until now. It's not as great as the last one, but hey, happy really late birthday!

**Disclaimer: Do not own Khr. Are you suprised?**

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><p><em>10 years into the Future<em>

The dinner table was full with all of my young friends and comrades. The nine of us all had a warm and delicious meal, courtesy of Chef Alana. Tsuna sat across from me at the end of the table with Takeshi on his left, and Dee sat next to me cracking jokes that only Takeshi and I were laughing at. The others (Kyoko, Haru, Lambo, Reborn, Ryohei, and Bianchi) either didn't get the humor or couldn't care less. This scene hasn't changed much in the last ten years, but that might be a good thing.

"Don't take it too seriously, Tsuna," I say once I notice his distressed and anxious looking face. My cousin has been making him the victim of most her jokes this evening. "She has an asshole sense of humor. It's nothing personal." I assure him with a smile. I forgot how easily he was distressed at this age—it's cute.

"That's right," Alana exclaims, alive with her mean, but not malicious, little comments. "I'm a communal hater, so don't get you're panties in a twist."

I choke on the laughter pouring out of me and cover my mouth to try and contain them. No matter what age or situation, her humor will never die. Good thing too, because that's her best trait. Besides being rich, but I don't think that counts as a trait.

Swallowing my giggles, I ask Alana how her arm feels. "I hear that it's pretty sore the first few days after being put back on." I comment and take a bite of the food. Thinking about it more, I feel a little fucked up that the person who just had her arm reattached was the person who cooked tonight.

"Ehh," She shrugs off my words. "It's nothing. But the mobility better come back soon or I'm going have to let it go."

"Well that's…good." I say with a grimace.

After a few more bites of food, we get into a discussion of what my Tsuna did (the twenty five year old, not the fifteen year old across from me). It was fucked up in my opinion, why couldn't he have told his guardians? They deserved to know. Maybe I couldn't have kept the act up, but they definitely could have. Of course, my dear darling cousin had a logical explanation for that.

"Byakuran might have captured then and somehow extracted the information from them. He supposedly thought Irie Shoichi to be on his side—he wouldn't question him. And Hibari would never let himself be captured, he's above it."

I conceded, "You're right." I think about the anguish his fake death caused all of us. All the tears that were shed. "But it's still a fucked up thing to put on us," I maintained. "Especially is he was going to have his guardians locked away in the first place. Then what was the point of keeping them in the dark?"

"Yeah," She said thoughtfully. Then comes a sly smile from her. "But something might have gone wrong. I mean look at you: you're younger self is not here with us."

The comment makes me flinch and chuckle guiltily. "Sorry," I proclaimed. "I'm still a little too selfish at that age to risk my life. I probably thought something like 'I have ten years left before I have to deal with that'."

"Yeah," she says in a deep tone full of hollow accusation. "Little fucker."

With a smile and chuckle, I agree with her observation/joke. It was a pretty fucked up thing to do. "Self-survival," I claim with a sheepish smile.

There are a few chuckles between us, and I glance around the room, catching Tsuna's and Takeshi's face. Takeshi is just enjoying the scene, relaxed and amused; even at fifteen that guy is incredibly easy going, no wonder he connects with Alana so well. But Tsuna looks horrified in comparison to his friend, like he's being bullied.

"Don't feel bad Tsuna," I tell him with my most charming smile. "I've already forgiven you. Squabbles like these are expected between a wife and husband."

Instantly he blushes while looking away from me. But his embarrassment doesn't stop my cousin from ruthlessly laughing at him. She leans over the table and places her hand over her mouth. "She will never let you forget this." She exclaims in a whisper, her tone still full of amusement. "Ever!" she raged. "Expect to be on top the next couple times."

"You're a lucky guy Tsuna!" Takeshi adds with a smile, laugh, and a spreading dark blush. From the way his face goes from entertained to embarresed, I'm guessing he just realized what he said. I on the other hand, just double over and let my body shake with laughter for a while. I peek up and can tell from Tsuna's face he doesn't get Alana jab.

From the end of the table I see that Haru and Kyoko don't take these jokes as lightly as our end of the table does. In fact they look pretty troubled by the idea that I got Tsuna in the end. Alana catches me glance over to them and shakes her head in mocking disappointment.

We exchange smiles and both take a bite of our food. It's strange to be like this with her after so long. To laugh, joke, and enjoy each other's company like this. Ever since Alana became a spy for CEDEF thing haven't been the same between us. My loyalty to Tsuna prevented me from telling her too much of my life, but my loyalty to her prevented me from completely cutting her out of my life or even telling Tsuna that she spies on him. Though I think he's known for a while now. Nonetheless, we haven't been so open and honest for a few years—maybe since my nineteenth birthday.

"You alright," She whispers to me, so subtle no one on the table notice. I almost didn't notice.

I open my mouth to speak, but then close it and nod instead. Thinking about our distance and experiencing how great it is to be close to her makes me want to cry. If I had tried to talk I'm sure my voice would have cracked, and then there would have been no stopping it.

"I love you," I told her quietly.

The words are true; she took care of me and was my friend for so long. Nothing can replace that. Not even the awkwardness we've been through lately.

"I'm flattered," She says flatly. "But that's not the way I swing."

It takes less than second for me to bust out laughing. "I love you if only for sense of humor alone." I say, wiping the tears she created from my eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Happy Birthday my lovely cousin**. I got you a card but you never came over to my house to receive. But hopefully you like this, since Catherine is based off of you. I tired to make the word count the same as you new age but unfortunately that didn't work out-sorry.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own KHR.

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><p>Light melodic laughter drifted through the hallways, even with a drunken tone the voice was pleasant to listen to. Cozart, rather whimsically, followed the pretty sound through the hallways. He may have only attended a handful of these elegant soiree but never had the delightful sound been present before now. Passing the doors, grand and large and expensive, the red haired men of twenty one found the musical voice, as well as many others, in a private room. Dimly lit and spaciously fit, the room contained a group five with an intimate quality about them. On a plush velvet chaise louge lay a young woman in an expensive blue dress, entrancing much older gentlemen with a steady gaze and low words. Across the room was the dark haired women who claimed propriety over the traveling choice, and Cozart agreed that her voice was even to her lovely figure and face. A face, he noticed with amusement, that seemed to be ever-changing with expressions and words. The woman's vibrancy was not only pleasantly received by him, put also by the man next to he, a man who politely refilled her wine continuously. Cozart suspected the fine red blush to her cheeks was not from rouge. The woman's dark eyes founds his from over the shoulder of her suitor, and with a daring smile she strode to him, abruptly leaving her older suitor in the middle of conversation.<p>

"Hello Signorina," he greeted graciously. In a moment of impropriety he gazed at a few strands her dark hair that curled to her neck, perhaps they had fallen from her carefully pinned up hair or were the locks less carefully put up then perceived?

Her response was friendly and came from perfectly pink lips. Cozart smiled at their sound, their volume and smoothness. They exchanged names quickly, and upon insistence (and having difficulty with her German last name) it was agreed that he would call her Catherine, she call him Cozart.

With a wild grin at her lips, she called over to the rest of her company and introduced him, introduced him as if they had known each other for years and he was a close and trusted companions. The young woman rose from her slanted position in the chair causing the pale blue gown to ripple beneath her and reveal a bit more then just ankle. "Ah, Signore Simon. A pleasure to have you, enjoy the wine with us. Please."

Josephine, the woman next to him said with that wonderful voice of her, that is a brilliant idea. A heartbeat passed and there was a full glass of wine in his hand and a soft woman's arm on top of his. On the delicate wrist which pressed against his was a bracelet streamed with diamonds. Drink, she insisted with deep murmur. Out of politeness her sipped once, and for that politeness he received a grand white smile.

"Gentleman," called Josephine with a sweet and light tone. "We _must_ be going now. "

"So soon?" "Already?" "Stay dear Signorina." They all protested but with a charming smile from both the women, they quieted. The young one promised to meet them all at Flora Borghese Pincians's Garden the next day, and that seemed to satisfy them. "Shall we go now Signore Simon?" She asked with a smile almost as pretty as her counterpart's.

Cozart agreed, curious to where the charmers would attempt to lead him. And so they went, through the grand and large and expensive hallways. Cozart grinned in amusement, considering how a gutter rat like him was now escorting two lovely well dressed burnett's at such a fancy party. To his pleasure, the shorter and older one continued to talk to him wither her melodic voice and ever-changing expressions. To her pleasure, he laughed and amiably replied to most her comments. The youngest stayed quiet and only displayed an attentive smile.

By the time they arrived back to main hall, he had told her that Giotto, her dear friend, had invited him to the event and that they were here looking to make friends. She told him happily that she had many friend and would be honored to acquaint him with some.

"We love to make friends," said Josephine in a low tone while peering up at him through long black lashed. Then, just as abruptly as she took off with him, she left. Cozart was only able to watch the flutter of her blue dress get lost in the crowd before Catherine stole his attention again. Locking her deep brown eyes with his, she leaned in, just a little to closely, and asked him for a dance.

Though a feared and disliked activity for Cozart, with such a lovely lady so close to him asking with such a delicious voice, refusing her was worst then dancing.

"My skills are dreadful on a good day," he warned.

She grinned at him cheekily and leaned to whisper that he only need to make it _look _like he's leading. For him, she would do all the rest. With a wary glance, Cozart let himself be led to the dance floor by Catherine. They joined I smoothly, and just as promised, Catherine led the dance gracefully and easily. He only stepped on her feet twice and every time he was forgiven and laughed at. But it was such a great laugh, he didn't mind at all. By the time it was over, he and Catherine made their way from the dancing and to a empty table. The table, he found, was clothed in white velvetine and had a three candle lit in the center surrounded by delicate red flower piece. His first thought was that the display is a fire-hazard and his second thought was that the display alone could feed five families from his hometown.

"Do you often come to there parties?" he asked. She told him she often did, but rarely met met like him. He was amused by her flattery and judging by the curled smile on her lips, so was she. Cozart, she sang, where will you be tomorrow? And the day after that? And the day after that?

He musical musings mustered a laugh from him, but nonetheless did he answer her seriously. "With my friends and family. It is the only place I should ever need to be."

She pressed a manicured finger to her jaw in a thoughtful gesture, and Cazart resisted following it as the polished nail ran down her naked neck. Instead he listened to her entrancing voice, taking in that she had invited him to go resteraunt of theater hall anytime this week. He blinked then chuckled, for never before had he met so bold and fearless a woman. The strong gaze of her's assured of a perfectly serious intent, and for that gaze alone he nearly accepted. Nearly. There was already a promise to Giotto for the whole week, and the matters they would be dealing with was more significant that date. Though perhaps next week...

"No Signorina Catherine, my week is full."

She gave a light pout and played with curl of hair that clung to his neck. For that moment he felt sure the loss strands were on purpose, as was most of dark eyes Catherine's behavior. How unfortunate, she claimed with a twinkling carefree laugh. Her soft features then turned serious and daring, and she claimed that Cozart must make it up to her another time. But he needn't worry too much, for she would pay for her own expenses.

He laughed at her brash and bold manner, and enjoyed the spark of independence in her eyes and fearlessness in her shoulders. He realized then that she felt instead of being ruled by the social rules of society that she should rule the social rules of society. The world was her's for the taking and she would taste every bit as she please. That is why every move she makes is so decided, because it is _her_ moves to deiced upon.

Catherine laughed with him, laughed freely and boldly and beautifully. It was in that moment Cozart decided he would be taking her out next week and he would take her out the week after that too.

They spent the next hour laughing and talking together. They shared stories of loved ones, of reckless adventures (and Cozart was surprised to find out she had quite a few), and of lifestyles. She asked him strange questions that varied from favorite color to the current war, and he answered them all honestly. His favorite color was sky orange and the war is an example of corrupt men's brutality. He also told her of his low standing in society, and lack of desire to rise in status. For him, a healthy and happy family is all that's needed.

Cozart mostly questioned her heritage, and she informed him of her American nationality (which certainly explained her boldness), but that her father was of German blood and mother was of Spanish. Though apparently she lived her with wealthy Uncle since youth, and it was this Uncle that supported her trip to Europe with money and enthusiasm. Josephine was her sixteen year old cousin, and they were both enjoying the sight currently Italy and partaking in it's people's culture.

"And the suitors?" He asked boldly with an easy air.

She grinned merrily, came a little closer than necessary and whispered to him smoothly that suitors were nothing more suitors and that they would never be more.

"And what am I?"

She gave a musical laugh and informed that he was Signore Cozart Simon, the man she asked out on a date and rejected her.

He was about to response when he noticed Giotto from the corner of his eye. He gave his beloved friend every attention once Cozart noticed the serious expression upon the man's face. Giotto gave Catherine only the swiftest of greetings, proof of how tense the situation must be, and then calmly expressed a need to leave the party. Now. In less than a second he was out of his seat following Giotto to the manor's front doors, his only parting to Catherine was a nod.

They were in front of the manor in seconds, and Giotto began to explain the situation. "There has been an attack on households south of here. Large groups of criminals harassing families, and they're choosing tonight to be incredibly rowdy."

Cozart nodded his head quickly. Lived may be in danger, and they were stronger together.

Giotto and Cozart ran quickly to the lower ends of town, making it in time to see a few men cornering crying children. Together the men were knocked out in seconds and Giotto and Cozart chased down the other criminals too. However the ghetto was large and there seemed to be an extraordinary amount of criminals out, each attempting some foul crime. They were down to five criminals, when a car came rushing by, knocking everyone off balance. Only the richest of the rich owned cars, and for a moment Cozart was absolutely stunned to see one. Especially one in blue, that requires a personal paint job with very expensive paint.

Giotto recovered a lot more quickly than the others did and promptly took out the five easily. Then he asked, kindly because he kind to even those who nearly ran him over, who was in the car. It was too dark to see in the windshield, so when the stunning Catherine gracefully exited the vehicle, the shock caused him to flinch.

"Catherine?"

Yes, she answered lightly and melodically, with a happy expression. Giotto exchanges a look with him before they slowly come closer to the woman. "What are you doing here?"

She gave them a blank look, then a light laugh, then a smile. She asks them if they would like a ride back to the party and tells that there is phone there that can be used to call the police. Giotto graciously accepts the offer and climbs into the backseat without worry. Cozart wonders if he may be better off looking after the criminals. "It'll be alright." Giotto telld him with that sure gaze, and so Cozart got in the blue car.

Catherine recklessly races back to the party, and Giotto scolds her for reckless driving. With a carefree laugh, she justifies it by saying she left her defenseless cousin alone and stranded in a party with greedy old men who would love nothing more than to take her home for a night. Giotto accepts this excuse and actually begins to worry for her cousin's chastity. Cozart did not bother to worry, he has seen her skillfully play those old suitors and was sure that Josephine could handle any man.

They arrive at the party much more quickly than they should have, and Catherine parks her car in the perfectly trimmed lawn. Cozart decided this first car ride will be his last. Giotto's glance is all that is needed to know the friends were having similar thoughts. The driver seemed perfectly at ease, her pinned up hair maintaining its elegant structure. She even takes the initiative to hook arms with the gentlemen and have them escort back in the grand soiree.

The young cousin was chatting with three older men when she comes over exclaiming, "Oh Catherine! Where did you go in such a hurry? I was so worried being left alone."

The woman tells Giotto where the phone is before answering her innocent sounding cousin's question. Following her heart apparently.

"Catherine, you could have been hurt chasing after us. We were dealing with bed men."

Her only response is to lightly laugh in that pleasant voice of her's and pressed her cover ankle to Cozart's. There was a hard, small, metal object strapped to her ankle: a pistol. He gaped slightly, a little scandalized. "No need to fret mi amour. I am very good at handling bad men." The words wonderfully roll of her tongue and Cozart feels tempted to kiss her.

But too soon she whisks away with her cousin to the waltzing floor. However, as he watched her disappear in the stream of bodies he acknowledged something. Catherine is a woman worth falling in love with.


End file.
